


Short Stories of Love and Friendship

by Minchuks



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: A lot of shipping, Because everyone and their cat has done this, Damn you AO3 that's not the tag I wanted to add, F/M, Fluff, I hope, M/M, No group ships though, One Shot Collection, Reader-insert (at least a couple of them), more characters and relationships will be added, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-01 08:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minchuks/pseuds/Minchuks
Summary: Life; it's something all of us go through. Every single one of the experiences we go through, whether it's a laugh with a friend, perhaps a tear shed over tragedy, or that special one reminding us of their love, they're all moments that mean something.[Hetalia oneshots, requests are open]





	1. A Short Introduction

Sucky summary, I know.

Anyway, hi, I'm Minchuks (you can also call me Minn), and I'll be your host in this... thing! 

I had to start it off somehow, okay?

Requests are open, and I'll accept pretty much everything. 1p, 2p, Nekotalia, Nyotalia, Hetalia x Reader, Hetalia x Hetalia scenarios, life stories of Hetalia characters (because history is interesting ...I'm serious), and crackfics, because crack, amirite? Just no extreme gore, because I don't do that kind of stuff. Please :3

So, obviously, major shipping ahead.

When you request, please follow these guidelines:

  * Mention the character or pairing you want to see;
  * Describe (even if it's just a few words) what scenario you want to see. 



Requests don't necessarily have to be romantic connections. As I said, it can be almost anything, as long as it's Hetalia related. 

If you wish to place a request privately, feel free to message me. 

From time to time I will write a oneshot of my own, which might not necessarily even be a Hetalia oneshot for reasons, and I won't be writing lemons, because a) the rating, and b) I would probably die from the cringe and laughing my head off while writing them :D

And I swear that the oneshots are not connected, and they don't exist in the same universe. Maybe. Perhaps. I'll let you think of it whatever you want.

 

Story key (for Hetalia x Reader):

(Y/n) - your (first) name

(L/n) - last name

(E/c) - eye color

(H/c) - hair color

(F/c) - favorite color

 

Other sidenotes:

Anything in languages other than English will be translated at the bottom of the page, if that ever happens, which I doubt it will, because languages are not my strong point. 

I will use exclusively human names, unless specified otherwise for an individual story. See, there is this problem: Nyotalia, some 2ps and Nyotalia 2p characters don't really have human names. Sure, I could just do research and name them myself, but it might get confusing. So, if I decide to use country names for a story, I'll let you know.

I can't guarantee any schedule or regularity, because creativity and great ideas come as they want, and I'm really busy with school, and training, and programming, and extra chemistry because my teacher is a jerk and I swear that this has to be some sort of conspiracy -_-

I want to and will incorporate real-life events into my work. Those Eurovision and sporting event fanfics will come, don't worry.

I'm not very experienced with AO3, so if you see something weird, like an incomplete oneshot, weird tags or just something you weren't meant to see, it's my fault, sorry.

And I don't own anything besides my account, my computer/phone and the oneshots themselves. Hell, if all goes as I want it to, I won't even be able to lay claim to the ideas of some of the works, because that's what commenter requests are all about.

 

...why do I sound so completely soulless .-. 

*sigh* I'm a very weird person, as you may or may not have noticed. Also, doesn't the title kinda sound like something My Little Pony would make up? Guess my little sister isn't a very good influence on me...

Lastly, I'm sorry if my stories suck. :( 

 

Until next time and have an awesome day!

-Minchuks


	2. Distractions [Germany/North Italy]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best things in life can come when they're least expected. Sometimes, those things end up being found in a tomato crate in the forest.

Ludwig loved order and control over everything he did. Even if it meant repeating the same routine over and over again, he thought it was a good way to go through his life. That was the way he had lived for centuries, after all.

But it all had changed when he found a certain Italian in a tomato crate.

 

_September, 1916_

_It was a beautiful day out in the forests by the Italian border. The sun was shining bright and warm in the sky, and on a better day Ludwig might have been relaxing in his backyard with his dogs, but this was the middle of the war, and he had a job to do._

_His boss had assigned him the dangerous mission of trespassing the border and capturing the man he knew was a descendant of Rome. A nation Ludwig thought has on his side, until his boss learned of his alignment with the enemy. He was sure this wasn't truly his own fault, the Italian had himself been bossed around by some crazy people recently, but orders were orders._

_Ludwig was beyond surprised how easy it had been to cross that border. He expected to see squads of soldiers on patrol, ready to shoot any foreigner, but all he encountered was one guard, who ran off the moment he saw the German._

_He was sure this was some kind of trap to lure him into a false sense of safety. It couldn't be this easy. He scoured the forest around him, but found nothing out of the ordinary, until he saw a crate of tomatoes._

_This was a trap. There was no way it could be anything else. Yet, even with such blatant signs, he couldn't help but wish to investigate further. He grabbed a long stick, and tapped the crate a few times, because what could a crate of tomatoes be doing out in the middle of a forest...?_

_"AHH!"_

_The sudden noise made Ludwig jump._

_"I-I'm a tomato box fairy! L-let's be friends and play together!"_

_This was getting weirder by the second. Ludwig tried to find a way to open the box, but found it to be sealed shut. However, the wood seemed quite old and worn down, perhaps a bit of brute force would do the trick..._

_"S-stop! W-what good it would do to open a box of harmless tomato fairies?"_

_With one last pull, Ludwig felt the wood crack, sending him flying backwards, still clutching the lid._

_"I'm sorry! I'm not a tomato fairy at all, it was all a lie! PLEASE DON'T SHOOT ME, I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! I'LL DO ANYTHING, JUST DON'T SHOOT ME, I DON'T WANT TO DIEEEEE!!!"_

_The boy continued begging for his life, mentioning something about having relatives in Bavaria, that he knew Ludwig was a German and that he was Italy-_

_Wait. This couldn't be the guy he was supposed to be fighting._

_"Let me ask you a question. Could you, by any chance, be a descendant of Rome?"_

_"You know Grandpa Rome? That's wonderful news! I thought you were a mean and scary man, but you're actually very kind!"_

_And Ludwig had thought he'd have to deal with a battle-hardened warrior, just like Ancient Rome once was, but this was a pathetic boy in a tomato crate. Or, maybe, he was just waiting for his chance to strike. That guy..._

_"How fun it is to have a new friend-"_

_Ludwig delivered a blow to the Italian's face to shut him up. "I will not be fooled by you! Go to hell, you pasta-loving freak!"_

_He expected some form of retaliation, but the boy fell down and continued his whimpering, rolling around in the grass in fear, leaving Ludwig speechless at the Italian's seeming helplessness._

_The German, slightly hesitant, threw him back into the tomato crate, and eventually hauled him back to his homeland, as his boss had ordered._

 

 _'At that moment, I never imagined the extent to which that encounter would change my fate...'_ Ludwig thought, snapping his journal closed.

 

The Italian, whose name, as he had soon learned, was Feliciano, was far, far tougher to deal with than to capture. Getting information out of him was almost impossibly easy, as he panicked at even the slightest mention of harm and quickly spilled everything he knew, which, to be fair, wasn't very much. But he was completely useless when it came to doing anything besides cooking or cleaning, and, no matter what, he'd always interrupt Ludwig's work with his crying about how German women were terrifying.

The day Feliciano decided to write a song about him was the day he shipped him back to Italy. The man was nothing but a distraction.

But as hard as Ludwig tried to get rid of Feliciano, somehow, he always came back. After WW1 was over, and Ludwig was working for months on end to pay his reparations to France, the Italian came back, begging for a job. For a moment, the German was happy to have a helping hand, but soon realized that he was going to be far more of a burden than someone worth keeping around, just as before.

And the biggest punch in the gut came when Feliciano declared himself to be an ally of Ludwig, forever cementing his place in the German's life.

 

What wonderful news it had been that he would have to deal with the Italian and his antics for years at a bare minimum. Any hopes he had that Feliciano changed his ways and became more serious about life quickly went out the window in the very first days of them trying to work together. He always tried to run away from training, constantly messed up both his and Ludwig's workspaces for a reason the German couldn't even fathom, was unable to grasp the use of the most basic weapons, and had an unbreakable instinct to go nap in the middle of the day, and in Ludwig's bed more often than not.

However, as useless of an ally as he was, he was the first friend he had made in centuries. After so long, Ludwig had finally found someone he could trust, someone he could talk to if needed, someone who could help him out in a pinch, even though he ended up being the one having to bail Feliciano out of all the messes he'd get himself into, greatly irritating the German. In fact, he had grown strangely used to having the Italian around. And as yet another war was also coming to a painful close in defeat, and years slowly turned to decades, Ludwig found himself accepting the bizarre situation he was in.

But that feeling applied only to the Italian. Ludwig hadn't seen a change in how he felt about his brother or other allies, which confused him quite a bit. Feliciano was just his ally, nothing else. 

However, he couldn't help but think that there was something strange, almost familiar about the Italian, yet he, for the life of him, couldn't figure it out.

The night Ludwig first thought about it, he saw that one dream again. The same dream as he had the day he met Feliciano, and many times afterwards, but still as hazy and unclear as ever. Once again, he saw a little girl in a maid dress, sweeping with a deck broom. Everything, from the child to the broom, seemed familiar, like the German knew them personally, even though there was no way that could be true, having never actually seen the girl in his life.

All of it only served to frustrate Ludwig further. He knew that the dreams meant nothing, they were simply a strange coincidence. He knew that Feliciano was just his ally, and nothing more, but lately he had to force himself to remember that. The glances Ludwig kept stealing, the thoughts that wandered to the Italian far too often, the strange emotions bubbling inside that he had no chance of explaining, he tried to fight it all off.

"Ludwig! Dinner is ready, wake up!"

The German snapped up, meeting Feliciano's amber eyes, laced with concern, and he felt a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

It had taken him several months, a few romance books and a couple extremely awkward conversations with both his brother and his friend Roderich before he could even begin to decipher what the strange feeling was.

"Are you okay?" Feliciano asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just got a bit caught up." Ludwig saw the Italian relax, as he got up and stretched slightly to relieve the stiffness in his muscles.

Feliciano's cheerful grin lit up his face. "I'll be waiting~" he said, walking off with a slight skip in his steps.

Ludwig followed shortly, thinking about the soft gaze that could pull at his heart without trying, the smile that made his worries go away, the being that radiated joy and lit up his gritty life. It was all those little things that slowly, but surely added up.

He came to a stop by the dinner table, where Feliciano waited, as he said he would, still wearing his signature smile. 

"This time I decided to add a bit of sausage to the sauce, I hope you'll like it!" he said happily, gesturing at the plates of food.

The little moments of thought were the ones Ludwig enjoyed and appreciated the most, even before Feliciano revealed his affections on an otherwise peaceful night decades ago, and even though they distracted him, they were his moments of happiness.

Gently, he wrapped his arms around the Italian, feeling the warmth that the other's body gave off, and his own heart speeding up.

Because Ludwig loved Feliciano. No matter what happened, Feliciano was there for him, cared for him and helped in any way he could. Francis' rose beds and love poems spanning books, or Alfred's overly flashy displays of affection, none of them could compare to the bond that he felt they shared. Love might have been the last thing he would have asked for before, especially from a person like Feliciano, but after truly feeling and understanding it, he adored every bit of it; he adored every bit of _him_.

"Feliciano?" Ludwig murmured.

"Hm?" 

"Ich liebe dich." He certainly wasn't one to throw the phrase around, saving it for special moments, like this.

"Ti amo anch'io," the Italian whispered back.

 

Feliciano was a distraction, but the greatest one Ludwig could have ever hoped to encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one will be a crackfic that I have to get off my chest.   
> I at the very least hope that you know that "ich liebe dich" and "ti amo" mean "I love you" in German and Italian, respectively. And "ti amo anch'io" means "I love you too". :D


	3. On the Topic of Big Brothers [Nordics]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much to say here, except that Emil really, really hates it when Lukas forces him to call him "Big Brother". Also mostly features Emil and Lukas for pretty obvious reasons.

_"Call me big brother."_

The phrase echoed in Emil's head, yet he couldn't say a word in protest. He heard the words once again, clearer this time, behind him.

" _Call me big brother..._ "

He turned around, and saw Lukas' figure standing there, staring blankly at him. Normally, he would't have been surprised at all, but there was something unsettling about the Norwegian this time around. Emil tried to say something, anything, but the words he tried to voice kept catching in his throat. 

His frustration grew, but he wouldn't give in to Lukas' wishes either. Emil answered the Norwegian's glare with that of his own, but the other didn't move a muscle, continuing to stand as stoic as ever. When the words came again, they sounded less human and much more ghostly.

" _Emil... Call me big brother..._ "

It was then that Emil saw Lukas' figure shift. For a second he felt slight relief, but his heart began racing when the person in front of him became the spirit of a troll.

He didn't know why he was running away, and doing so as fast as he was, but the adrenaline coursing in his veins sent him bolting from the creature, running for his life. It was of little use, though. The spirit was approaching closer by the second. His lungs screamed for air, sweat beaded on his forehead, terror clouded his rational thoughts, and the only wish that remained was that this... whatever it was, stopped.

Even that was wiped away when he felt a searing pain in his back, like a chainsaw passing through his torso, as the spirit went through his body and sent him to the ground with a thud, the troll itself disintergrating in a cloud of smoke.

Emil gasped for air, trying to slow his breathing and calm himself. He propped his body up on one arm, reaching to his chest with the other. He was relieved to know it was intact, no pain was brought by the touch or blood left on his hand. He sighed, rolling over onto his back, and stared up into the dark sky. 

_'What the hell is going on?'_

His moment of respite was short lived, however. Lukas appeared in front of him, staring intently at the Icelander, and then another, and another, until they surrounded him in a circle. Every single figure was shrouded in a cold, purple aura, and their normally dull indigo eyes were faintly glowing.

_'Lukas, you really need to calm down with your magic...'_ Emil thought. He rose up, and observed the people around him. All of them were identical copies to the Norwegian he knew too well, but even freakier than usual. 

"Call me big brother." 

They spoke in perfect unison, and Emil's lips curled into a twisted smirk. First a troll trying to kill him, and now _this_?!

He attempted to shove his way past the clones, only to slam into what felt like a solid brick wall. No matter how much he pushed, he couldn't get any of them to do as much as move a finger. The only signs of life in them were the condescending eyes that followed Emil wherever he went.

"Call me big brother, Emil."

It made no sense. He couldn't say anything even if he wanted to, so why were they asking him this? And besides, he would never do it. Never, ever, ever.

"Big brother."

_No._

"Big brother."

_Shut up._

Of course, his thoughts had no chance of affecting the Norwegian, or Norwegians, whose question had turned into a relentless chant. Over and over, they repeated the words in the monotone voice he had heard all his life, until they sounded like nothing more than a dull blur of noise. Emil almost gave out, but a firm nudge on his shoulder stopped him.

"Emil, wake up."

 

His reaction was immediate, rising up sharply, his breaths shallow and heartbeat racing. He looked around, and saw that he was in the comfort of his bed, with no sign of the copies of Lukas anywhere, save for one - the real one - who woke him up. But right now the sight of him was too much.

"Get out of my room," Emil muttered. The Norwegian didn't seem fazed at all, but turned away and left the Icelander alone.

"Breakfast is ready," Lukas said. At least he had the audacity to shut the door behind him. Emil rested his head in his palms as soon as he had left. 

_That_ must have been the strangest dream, or nightmare, he had ever had.

He was hesitant to get out of bed, and found a slight excuse not to when he noticed his phone's light blinking, so he picked it up and read the words on the screen.

 

_2 unread messages from: Leon_

_Leon: Yo_

_Leon: Wanna grab lunch today?_

He smirked as he wrote the response.

_Emil: Sure, see ya then._

As he sent the message, he caught a quick glance at the time Leon had sent his messages. 3:14am. Emil sighed and typed out another text.

_Emil: And you need to learn how to sleep_

Leon's response came only seconds later.

_Leon: Perhaps later with you ;)_

He did that every freaking time, knowing it would make Emil embarrassed and blush like a boy in middle school.

...not that he really hated it, though.

 

The sudden sound of Mathias' booming voice reminded him of the people who were probably waiting for him at the breakfast table. However, he was of his friends' shared opinion that the Dane should learn to not be so loud all the time.

He finally got out of the bed, and opened the curtains, blinded for a moment by the sunlight. Despite that, he enjoyed the sun and the feeling of its warm rays on his skin, considering how little of either he got in the cold and harsh place that was his native home.

"I'm trying to sleep, close those damn curtains, buddy!" Mr. Puffin growled, glaring daggers at his owner.

Emil groaned. "You're a real pain in the neck, you know that?" Reluctantly, he drew one of the curtains closed, giving the puffin the shade he wanted. 

"EMIL! COME EAT SOME PASTRIES BEFORE LUKAS EATS THEM ALL-" Mathias' shouts were quickly replaced by the sound of the Dane choking, undoubtedly the work of Lukas, as usual. 

Emil rushed to get dressed, throwing on his favorite brown jacket, brushed out his hair, and finally left his room, even though he had been woken up at least half an hour ago. Or two weeks ago. I mean what-

 

The rest of the Nordics had long since made themselves comfortable on the couches surrounding the breakfast table, perhaps save for Mathias, who was still breathing a bit louder than usual.

"God morgen, Emil!" the Dane greeted happily, despite his previous ordeal.

"Good morning," the Icelander replied.

Mathias let out an exasperated sigh. "Could you, perhaps, get Lukas to stop choking me? All I wanted was to get you to come eat with us..." he whispered.

"I heard that."

Both of them turned their attention to Lukas, looking as sharp and stoic as ever, sipping his coffee like it's nobody's business, a fairy casually resting on his shoulder, and the same troll which he saw in his dream floating in the air, both wearing shades- 

Emil had to look twice. Even after that, the creatures were still there, but no one else seemed to notice. Besides that, the only weird thing was that smirk on Mathias' face.

"What do you guys plan on doing today?" Tino asked.

' _Thank the Norns for the existence of people like Tino,_ ' Emil thought. The Finn's question caught everyone's attention quickly, though no one answered for a solid minute.

Until the Dane broke the silence with a laugh, that is. "I need some new shelves in my room, I thought about going to IKEA. Ber, you're an expert in that, maybe you could come along?"

"Did you just-"

"I think he did."

Emil and Lukas quickly exchanged a nervous glance, then turned to the Swede. If there was one thing that gave him a reason to exist, it was IKEA. Even the mere mention of the store excited Berwald as if he was a kid brought to a candy store. The Nordics had long since lost count of the hours they had spent in IKEA pulling Berwald off of the seventeenth or so chair he had fallen in love with in the previous 15 minutes, or frankly just trying to find the one of them who had become lost in that endless maze of wonderfully cheap Swedish furniture, in most cases Mathias, who would always be found somewhere among the wood shelves, stuffing his face with meatballs.

Tino twitched a bit, a dark aura gathering around him. His teeth were bared in a creepy, grotesque smile as his hand reached across the table.

"Dude, you okay?" the Dane questioned. 

The Finn's grasp tightened around a knife. He delicately lifted it from the table, rose his arm a bit higher and-

"TINO I'M SORRY I SWEAR I WON'T EVER MENTION IKEA AGAIN IN FRONT OF BER PLEASE SHOW MERCY!"

-and the blade went cleanly through a loaf of bread, and a wedge of it fell away from the loaf, landing with a quiet thud.

"Here. It's rye bread, I baked it this morning," Tino said, handing the slice to a shook Emil.

A breakfast with the Nordics without someone dying at least twice is considered a dull affair.

"Anyway, I was thinking, since it's getting pretty cold, and we've all been stressing out lately, maybe we should go to the sauna?" Tino suggested.

"Sounds great, but I'm still quite busy." Berwald replied, and his statement was followed by a collective sigh of agreement, disappointment and understanding from all but the Icelander.

He had never been able to catch up with the mainland European tendencies and present situations, being so isolated from the rest of them. Whenever their conversations turned in that direction, he'd stop listening in seconds and wait for them to talk about something a bit more interesting, like puffins, or nature conversation, or even the bread he was nibbling on. Sure, it wasn't quite as delicious as the lava-baked bread he could get back home in Iceland, but this was good, too. Every now and then he'd hear bits of their conversation, but he ignored them for the most part.

Especially when they talked about their achievements, he'd tune out faster than a dad at a Bieber concert. He was sick of hearing how well Berwald's singers did in that song contest, or how good Tino's and Lukas' teams were at winter sports. All that most people knew about Iceland was that it has beautiful scenery and a meme originated from there. Oh, and Vikings. Those guys were cool, they discovered America.

Emil was happy for what his friends had achieved, but he wanted to be slightly more noticed than he was. It made him very frustrated, as anyone would be, and as well as he tried to hide it, his nibbling of the bread became more and more aggressive.

"Emil, you okay, buddy?" Mathias said.

"Yeah." Emil replied absentmindedly, as he usually did while trying to avoid all conversation about his feelings.

Lukas abruptly put down his cup of coffee and stood up. "I'll be right back."

Needless to say, Emil was a bit puzzled, but the Norwegian soon returned with a pack of black licorice, _authentic black licorice from Iceland_ , Emil remarked, and put it on the table in front of him before sitting down in his usual spot.

Emil hadn't yet opened his mouth to respond when Lukas spoke again. "In exchange, call me big brother."

_'Not this again.'_

"Come on, you two are still going on about that?" Mathias laughed.

"But isn't it cool? I wish I had someone who'd call me their big brother..." Tino said dreamily.

"Don't encourage him! At least you agree with me, right, Ber?" Emil asked nervously.

"I think it's cute," the Swede replied.

The Icelander groaned in anger and defeat. And thanks to Berwald, he had found another icky thing about the nickname he hated so much that it appeared in his nightmares.

But, he did love licorice, and Lukas was kind enough to bring it to him...

 

"Thanks for the licorice... Big Brother."

He looked up slightly, enough to see Lukas' face, and he saw his lips curl into a mischievous smirk.

 

Within seconds he found himself hiding behind a large pillow, face flushing furiously.

"I hate all of you." Emil muttered into the pillow, with Mathias' roaring laughter in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so busy right now, I'd thought I'd get this out sooner, but school happened.  
> Next one will be one of the reasons why this fanfic has the rating it does. I think. I hope.


	4. Sonata on a Rainy Day [Prussia x Austria]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Roderich wanted was to play his piano in peace, but how can one do that if there's a bored Gilbert roaming about and demanding attention?

Roderich took a sip from his tea and observed the view outside the large windows that nearly covered the whole wall, taking a small midday break from writing his newest composition. It had been raining for three days straight, without a single sign that it would clear up anytime soon, and he had grown to be a bit irritated by it.

He wasn't much of an outdoor person who cared about the weather, but he loved it when sunlight filled his piano room, and its rays reflected off the polished surface of his beloved piano, filling him with delight and inspiration to compose grand symphonies that he most often wrote, however, this was the perfect time to write something different.

Setting the cup down, he returned to his piano, sat on the slightly worn down seat, and reviewed his work with a pencil in his hand.

_Sonata No.4, Mvt. No.1_ , the words at the top of the first page said. Roderich still hadn't decided what to call the piece. The marks that stood for notes were quite messy, jotted down hastily in the middle of playing, and almost unintelligible, but after so many years, he had learned to read the scribbles.

It was quite distinct from his other works. It wasn't extravagant in any way, it was much simpler and calmer, like the rain itself, but that didn't mean he liked the piece any less.

He liked all music, especially classical, and he loved playing it most of all. He felt that he could hear the composers' emotion and thoughts that they had put into every single piece he heard and played, and each was unique from the others. He had always found the passion driving the works forward awe-inspiring. No other music could ever do that, further proven by the fact that this music still sounded beautiful centuries after their creation, and he enjoyed recreating that.

He read the sheet once more, took a deep breath, and began playing, every note echoing on the walls of the spacious room and coming together in a beautiful melody. It was always a sacred moment, one in which he could let go of all his worries in the world.

  
However, bad weather has more consequences than creating music.

  
"Roddy, I'm bored!" A sharp dissonance rang in Roderich's ears as he was interrupted by none other than Gilbert Beilschmidt. The platinum haired male landed on one of the upholstered chairs with a loud thud, making the teacup clink against its saucer and causing Roderich to become even more annoyed.

"Then go find something to do, and don't break my furniture, please." Unlike himself, who had found the circumstances somewhat enjoyable, Gilbert didn't share his opinion at all. And, unluckily for Roderich, he had become Gilbert's target for endless bothering in his quest to find something to do.

"But there is literally nothing to do in your house! There's nothing to clean, nothing awesome to read, because all your books are about old, dead guys who wrote music or whatever, and there's nothing awesome to write about, either. Seriously, how do you even manage to sit on your butt all day and do something as un-awesome as playing that piano of yours?"

Roderich didn't respond to that. He knew that the Prussian had no chance of understanding the things he loved.

"Can you, at the very least, allow me to play in peace?" Roderich asked, even though he knew what Gilbert's answer was going to be, in one form or another.

The Austrian could swear to have heard a chuckle as Gilbert leisurely strolled over to his piano. "That's not exactly why I came here," he said, swiping the sheet music away from its stand.

"Give that back to me this instant!" Roderich exclaimed. It's not that the Prussian cared about whatever was written on that paper, though he did glance at it out of curiosity, but all he really wanted was to get a reaction from Roderich, which he did. Rather effectively, at that.

And that was more than enough encouragement for Gilbert to mess with the Austrian further. "Roddy, perhaps you could try to make yourself less un-awesome and play something for me?" he said, smirking.

Roderich narrowed his eyes in suspicion and irritation, but, for some strange reason that he couldn't begin to fathom, he decided to fulfill his request.

"Fine, if that'll make you shut up, but you need to give me those sheets back."

Gilbert grinned with amusement as he set the paper on its stand, and leaned on the piano hard enough to make it creak, in turn making Roderich cringe.

Nevertheless, he played the song, tuning out all his distractions. He tried to ignore Gilbert's presence there, especially the fact that he was actually doing something for him, let alone playing music for him, and tried to lose himself in the beautiful melody the piano created.

Because of that, he didn't notice Gilbert watching him, or more like intensely staring without even realizing it, observing every detail of the Austrian. Sure, the music was pretty, calming and strangely nostalgic, but what he found more interesting was the way his almost dainty fingers flew across the keys, how that one odd curl of his swayed with the smallest movement, the determination, yet calmness in his violet eyes, and, what fascinated the Prussian the most - Roderich's lips curving into a delicate smile, which, knowing how rarely the Austrian smiled, he was _not_ going to let himself miss.

As Roderich played the last chord, he finally looked up and faced Gilbert. "There you go. I hope you're happy," he said sharply.

Gilbert chuckled a bit. "Roddy, I told you, that's not all that I wanted."

Roderich rose from his chair, trying to keep himself collected. "If you're going to be like that, then leave." But his words fell on deaf ears as Gilbert started inching towards him, and he found himself instinctually backing away from him.

The Austrian swallowed hard when his back hit the wall, and Gilbert wasted no time in getting far too close for comfort. He tried to grab the Prussian's wrist to stop him, but the other's reflexes were faster, and Roderich found himself pinned in seconds, Gilbert pressing up against him.

"Make me."

Roderich wanted to resist him, even if it was purely out of spite for the guy, however, there was something about the devilish glint in Gilbert's scarlet eyes that sent a shiver down his spine.

Gilbert felt the resistance weaken, and watched Roderich as his face became flushed with a light pink. The Prussian let go the grasp he had on the other's wrist, before gently cupping his face and ever so slightly brushing his fingertip across the little mark under Roderich's lip, making the Austrian tense up and let out a strained sigh. 

Of course, he thought it was weird when he had first discovered what _that_ could do to Roderich, but having the endlessly stubborn man become a flushed, aroused mess of a person in his hands... needless to say, Gilbert really, really enjoyed that.

He stroked the mark again, harder this time, earning himself a drawn out moan, though he could hear that Roderich was still trying to restrain himself, but the shudder he felt gave him away.

_Damn him_ , Roderich thought, as coherently as he was able to at the moment. He felt far too hot, and he hated that it was Gilbert, the arrogant, annoying guy he'd resented for centuries, doing this to him. Yet it felt so good, and he couldn't deny it, no matter how much he wanted to.

Barely a moment later, Gilbert felt a hand grabbing the back of his head, jerking him forward to meet a soft and eager pair of lips. He was shortly taken aback by the sudden attack, but quickly regained himself and pushed back with equal hunger, running his tongue across Roderich's bottom lip, asking for permission to enter.

And the Austrian gave it to him and let him in, holding on to his arm tight enough to cause pain, his heart racing, demanding more. A hundred different emotions were driving him, but none of them were close to happiness or even content. What he felt was determination; determination to beat Gilbert at his stupid game and get back at him for the centuries he had to deal with him.

Gilbert let his hand roam about, tracing out the veins on Roderich's neck, moving downwards to his chest and undoing the buttons of his coat. Just as he loosened the last button, the Austrian bit at the other's lip, making him groan quietly. But instead of deterring him, which he thought would work for some strange reason, it only added to the heat, with Gilbert attempting to get rid of the coat as best as he could, but it remained hanging at his elbows.

Reluctantly, Gilbert broke away from the other, both panting heavily, and what he saw was... perfect. The disheveled clothes, hazy violet eyes, flushed face, and composure blown away, he knew that he was responsible for it, and it made him smirk in triumph.

"Thanks," he said slyly. "We should do this more often, shouldn't we?"

Roderich was too stunned to answer, and merely watched the Prussian readjust his collar, shoot a barely noticeable wink at him, and quietly walk out of his piano room.

Immediately, he rushed to the window and cracked it open, trying to cool himself down, without caring a single bit about the rain, even though he knew it was pointless.

_And damn him for being so good at this._

He sighed, slipping his coat back on properly, and tried to figure out what had just happened. But he couldn't. Or, more likely, he just didn't want to. All he knew was that he was going to get even with him for that, and he was not going to go down without a fight.

Besides, he was, quite literally, asking for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> I'll leave the rest up to you.
> 
> I finally managed to write this thing that I've been wanting to write for months. For the next one, we're going a bit farther north. Again. Also, returning to fluff.
> 
> Until next time! :D
> 
> -Minchuks


	5. A Holiday Visit [Norway x Reader]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Christmas, the Nordics visit a dear friend to celebrate the holiday. However, what they don't know is that some of them have other thoughts on their minds.

Pretty golden tinsels and string lights decorated (Y/n)'s home, with a small Christmas tree acting as the centerpiece in her living room, and from it hanged ornaments in many different colors and designs. Under it lay presents to be opened that evening when the Nordics visited her.

Ever since they first met, they've been the best of friends, and (Y/n) became almost like a sister to them. They would hang out together, throw parties, celebrate holidays. And this year was no exception.

But one of the five stood out to her. Lukas. He was a mysterious man, and never really talked much or showed any emotions, and yet, she found him interesting, charming, and above all, cute. Not to mention his silky platinum blond hair and deep blue eyes that she often caught herself staring in to... her schoolgirl-like crush had long since grown into deep feelings for him, but she had no way of finding out what he thought of her. She would try to find some kind of sign that he was even slightly interested in her or even cared about her existence. But, so far, there was nothing unusual about the way he acted. Just the same, cold, emotionless behavior at all times. And this fact made her heart sink.

The only person who could help her understand Lukas better was his best friend, Mathias. Because no matter how much she tried to hide her crush, he found out anyway, and since then he had been trying to get the two of them together, for better or for worse. If this kept on going, it would be a matter of time before everyone knew about her feelings, which is one of the things she feared most, despite being an open person. Well, aside from the possibility that the Norwegian felt nothing for her, as this was a question that the Dane could not answer, even though the two guys spent the majority of their time together, living in the same house. So she just kept on hoping that the latter had kept his mouth shut.

 

The scent of baked goods filled the air as (Y/n) pulled them out of the oven, happily humming to herself. As soon as she had set the treats down, a knock on the door caught her attention. She almost ran down the hallway, her face lighting up with excitement. And when she unlocked and opened the door, five familiar faces greeted her.

"HI, (Y/N)!! MERRY CHRISTMAS~" Mathias shouted as he pounced on the girl, nearly making her fall backwards, and squeezing every last bit of air out of her with his iron grip.

"H-hi, Mat... c-could you please let me go?" she choked out. The man hopped back, with a distraught look on his face, as if he didn't notice he had nearly strangled her to death.

"You're being rude, you know," Lukas said to Mathias.

"Nice to see you again, (Y/n)!" Tino cheered. Thank goodness he could always lift the atmosphere. "Isn't the weather just beautiful today?"

It was beautiful. White snow had covered everything outside, and the sky was equally bright. Truly, it was a perfect winter day.

"Yeah, it's pretty nice," she agreed. "You had something in mind?"

"Well, we were thinking-" the Finn began, but a certain Dane just had to focus the attention on himself.

"Why don't we go to the track field across the street and have a snowball fight?" he said with a goofy grin on his face, making her chuckle.

"Okay! I'll be back in a minute," she said, before running off to change into her winter clothes. Even though agreeing may have been a mistake. When the Nordics have a snowball fight, it's not a fun game. It's a war. (Y/n) was often surprised how it could end with no one injured. In fact, the guys always loved it, no matter the outcome. And the one thing she enjoyed more than many others was seeing her friends happy.

A few minutes later she returned, bundled up against the cold, and the group left (Y/n)'s home, heading to the stadium which everyone knew was going to turn into a battlefield, because, if there was one thing the Nordics were really good at, it was working with snow. They were from the north, after all. 

As they reached the field, they noticed the barricades that the kids in the neighborhood had built previously, and (Y/n) chuckled to herself. _These are definitely going to be improved,_ she thought.

In some sort of silent agreement, Berwald and Tino ran off to the furthermost wall to turn it into an impenetrable fortress, as they typically did, signaling that the fight had officially begun. Lukas, Emil and (Y/n) hid behind barricades near to each other, and Mathias didn't even try to hide, just ran around, collecting snow and squishing them into snowballs while shouting "I'm going to win this one, so you better be afraid!" Yeah, as if.

(Y/n) started collecting some snow herself and making snowballs, until she heard a quiet voice coming from the wall to her left.

"Over here," Lukas whispered.

She was quick to obey his command, and sneaked to his location, where he and now Emil were hiding. Apparently Mathias was too distracted by something to notice this unguarded movement. 

"How about we team up and put that stupid guy in his place?" Emil suggested.

"That was the reason I told you two to come here," the Norwegian answered as he piled up the snow necessary for their ammunition. The three swiftly made a few armfuls of snowballs and prepared to ambush the Dane. 

"Alright. You guys ready?" Lukas asked, the other two nodding in agreement.

And soon an avalanche of snow came flying Mathias' way, covering his body with snow and sending him flying backwards. The trio approached the poor guy, and (Y/n) started laughing at the sight. 

"What did you say about winning?" she smirked, making Mathias groan in annoyance over his failure.

"Fine. You beat me. But I'm getting you back next time!" he pouted, making a promise he could never keep. And this made the girl laugh even more. Even Emil cracked up a bit, and Lukas quickly glanced at her, flashing a faint smile. ...wait. _He smiled_?! Good thing only she noticed, otherwise everyone would think the world was ending, because the normally cold and composed Norwegian had  _actually_ showed emotion.

"That's one down, two to go," Emil said, communicating that it was time to attack the fortress shared by Berwald and Tino. This was going to require some strategy.

There was no way to attack them straight on; the barricade completely surrounded the pair, with only a small hole allowing them to observe the situation and shoot snowballs at unsuspecting victims. So (Y/n) came up with a seemingly great idea.

"Hey, why don't we attack them through that hole?" she whispered, trying to make sure that their opponents didn't hear. Lukas seemed rather skeptical of this plan, while Emil accepted it.

"Not the best plan I've heard, but it's worth a shot," he said.

The trio approached their enemy's fortress, preparing to attack. But they had severly misjudged Tino's skills. Three large snowballs came flying from his direction, all three direct shots to his attackers' faces, and made them stumble back and fall into the snow. The Swede and Finn finally emerged from their defenses to celebrate their victory, as they did every single time they had a snowball fight. After a couple cheers from Tino and a high-five between the pair, they helped the other three get up, Emil looking annoyed, and Lukas being as emotionless as ever. 

"I told you it wasn't a great idea, (Y/n)," the Icelander said, pouting.

"Well, if you had a better plan, you could have said it," she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

She sighed, and recomposed herself. "We should probably head back inside now, before we all freeze," she laughed, and the men nodded in agreement. Even if they were born and raised in the cold, none of them would ever refuse warming up next to a fireplace after a fun day in the snow. And so the six headed back to her home, all of them sighing in comfort when they finally entered the house and it's ever-present warmth enveloped their cold bodies, undressing from their heavy coats and making themselves comfortable in her living room, with the exception of (Y/n), who was busy getting blankets for her friends and adding a bit of wood to the fireplace to make things even cosier. 

"I'll make some hot chocolate, okay?" she suggested, and within a few minutes, she had prepared six cups of the steaming drink, topping them off with a few big marshmallows each, and served them along with a plate of the cookies she had baked earlier, which were, surprisingly, still a bit warm.

Tino was beaming, and Mathias started grabbing a bunch of the treats as if they were going to dissapear within five seconds, before everyone else took a couple too.

"Wow, these are really good!" the Finn said, smiling.

The Swede nodded in agreement and muttered "I agree."

"Thanks, (Y/n)," the Icelander said.

She laughed nervously at this sudden wave of compliments. "I'm glad you're enjoying them~"

Lukas had still remained quiet, still completely wrapped up in the dark blue blanket he took, which perfectly matched his eyes. Mathias, obviously having gotten a bit annoyed with his silence, confronted the other. "And what do _you_ think?"

He merely sighed and said "Everyone else already said everything I could say, so I'm not going to repeat them."

Ouch. That stung her heart, even though he didn't anything even remotely bad. She just wished he hadn't been so blunt. 

"Geez, you're mean," the Dane pouted.

"Fine. I'll say it. They're delicious," Lukas finally said and averted his gaze out the window, his cheeks becoming slightly dusted with pink, and his friend smirking about his small victory. But she still felt a bit disheartened by the fact that he seemed unaware of her existence.

"(Y/n), do you have any more wood for the fireplace?" Tino asked. 

"Yeah. It's out in the back, though. I'll go get it," she said and smiled, silently thanking him for breaking the awkwardness.

"No, it's fine. We'll go, right, Berwald?"

"Ja," the taller male said.

"Thanks, guys," she said as they got up and left the room.

"Hey, Emil?" Mathias started.

"Mm?"

"Have you ever been on the roof of this house? It's pretty cool, you know. Wanna come with me?" he asked with an excited glow.

Normally Emil would refuse such a weird offer, but he actually agreed, surprising (Y/n).

"Awesome! Let's go while it's still light outside!" and they left, but not before Mat shot a wink at her. 

And then it dawned on her. The four guys finding weird excuses to leave just to leave her alone with Lukas... this was Mathias' doing. She knew the idiot would suffer for this, but for now, she was stuck with _him_.

Seconds passed like hours in the dreadful silence, with neither of them being brave enough to light up a conversation, so she ended up picking up a book to somewhat distract herself from the uncomfortable situation.

But she could feel him staring. Digging into her soul with his eyes alone. Or he may have just been staring at the book, which turned out to be one containing fairytales. Of course. Either way, his intense gaze was making her face flare up. She shot a sideways glance at her companion, to try to find out which of the cases it was. But the dull look in his eyes gave no answer. In fact, he may have just been distracted by something in her direction. Damn him and damn his unreadable thoughts.

"Is there something wrong if you're looking at me like that?" she asked, still unsure.  
They briefly made eye contact, and within his deep blues she could see something... new. Something she had never seen in him, even if she had no idea what could it be. But then he looked away, furrowing his brows, as if he was accusing her of something.

"Nevermind." he said, his voice a tone lower than usual.

She tried to return to her book, but, moments later she heard Lukas get up, and for a split second, she felt two very distinct emotions: she was happy about him leaving so his presence would stop tormenting her, although at the same time she wanted to stop him from leaving. However, instead of doing that, he sat down next to her, tucking his blanket around her smaller frame, making her slightly flinch at the unexpected contact.

"I figured this would be warmer."

He was right, it was warmer. But not because of the extra fabric. A pink blush crept onto (Y/n)'s face at the sudden closeness.

"What's that you're reading?" he asked. 

"T-they're Scandinavian folk tales," she laughed nervously, silently cursing herself for stuttering. "There are a few there about Norway. Want to read them with me?"

He nodded in agreement, though she was sure that he already knew them by heart. And that was true, to the point where she just stopped paying attention to the book to focus on Lukas, who was telling every single detail he knew of the myths. And, honestly, this was more interesting, especially when the stories were accompanied with his voice, usually cool and monotone, but now laced with a hint of excitement, which she guessed was because the topic was dear to him. Eventually, she let his soothing tone take over her thoughts, simply listening to the adventures of the trolls and fairies he believed in so much, drinking in every word that escaped his lips.

When the Norwegian had finally finished his stories, all (Y/n) could do was smile in pure bliss. Turns out, he had emotions. Maybe he didn't feel anything for her, but the fact that he seemed happy about something warmed her heart. Not to mention, that soft smile really suited his face.

Before she had realized it, her head was resting on his shoulder, and a noticeable blush lit up her face. She expected Lukas to move away at this strange behavior, however, he wrapped his slender arm around her, pulling her frame closer to him, while his face was slowly turning red. In an attempt to hide this, he pulled her even closer and buried his face into her flowing hair, barely seeming to notice how tightly he was holding her, as if he was clinging on to dear life. Not that she minded. Right now, there was no point in hiding anything. She loved him more than anything, and would never wish to let him go from this embrace. And from the looks of it, he wouldn't either.

Lukas slightly lifted his head, but still kept his burning face hidden. She heard him inhale, like he was just about to say some sort of bad news to her. 

"(Y/n)?"

She made a small sound of acknowledgement, beginning to worry about what was taking him this long to say. But her heart would not stop racing, and she could feel his heartbeat doing the same.

"Jeg elsker deg." he murmured, his voice low and barely above a whisper.

She knew what that meant, due to the stupid Dane specifically teaching her the phrase. But hearing it from the one person she most wanted to say it to her... it seemed pathetic how just three little words could make her body flutter with countless butterflies, but they did. Warmth spread through her body all the way to the tips of her toes, her form relaxing in his secure hold.

"Lukas…" she whispered, finally getting him to bring his face in level with hers. His eyes, probably for the first time in his life, weren't cold and dull, but instead were glimmering with his affection for the girl in front of him. 

She felt a gentle hand cupping her chin, leaving only a few inches between their now glowing red faces. Lukas locked his gaze with (Y/n)'s one last time, before letting his eyes fall shut as he closed the gap, placing a featherlike kiss on her lips, taking her by complete surprise. But soon she pushed back a bit, tangling her fingers in his platinum locks. Their kiss was still rather gentle, as if the other would break like glass if they were too rough.

That's how precious they were to each other.

After a minute or two, they both reluctantly pulled away, but only because they needed to catch their breaths. They touched her foreheads, a loving smile across (Y/n)'s face.

"I love you too, Lukas."

 

A loud, squeal-like sound snapped the pair out of their happy silence.

"I knew it! I KNEW IT! And you wouldn't believe me, Emil." the same voice yelled, and the face of a certain Danish man popped out from around the corner, and the rest of their friends following shortly after, making the couple blush a deep red in embarrassment.

"I-It's not what it looks like, you know..." (Y/n) blurted out.

Mathias smirked. "Yeah, right, definitely. We saw everything, so there's nothing you can deny. But... I STILL KNEW IT!!!" he shouted as he ran off like the idiot he was.

"How about we get to finally celebrating the holidays?" Tino said with a cheerful grin on his face. At least he was being respectful, even if he was involved in Mat's little scheme. He quickly chucked the wooden logs he and Berwald had collected next to the fireplace and grabbed a box of sparklers, lighting them and setting them in a small stand. 

"Merry Christmas!~" everyone cheered in unison, bringing an overwhelming festive spirit into her home as their celebration could begin. 

Well, everyone except Lukas, who was busy looking at the flying sparks, with a small, but still very cute smile on his face. (Y/n) felt a hand wrap around her waist and pull her close to the Norwegian, who she could now call hers. He planted a light kiss on her forehead, not caring about the people around him.

"Merry Christmas, min elskede."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'll admit, this isn't actually a new oneshot. In fact, this has been in existence for over a year. I could have used it to pad the time between oneshots if I'm busy or simply falling behind time-wise, but I quite like this one, because it holds a special place in my heart as the first proper oneshot I wrote. So, here you go.  
> For the next one, we're still going to stay in the north, just going a bit east from here. I'm blaming the winter for freezing my brain up.  
> -Minchuks


	6. Chilly Evenings [America x Russia]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred is freezing to death in Moscow, and is desperately looking for a way to warm up. Luckily for him, Ivan has one solution for everything - vodka. Okay, perhaps it's debatable if that's actually a good thing.

A friendly reminder: please, drink responsibly, never drink and drive, and, in short, don't do what these people did. 

* * *

 

Alfred knew it was going to be cold in Moscow, but _damn_. No wonder General Winter had been Ivan's greatest ally in battle, because this cold made Alaska seem like a nice place to go on vacation to.

There he was, huddled up on the couch in a thick, woolly blanket that couldn't keep him from shivering, sipping hot tea, fumbling with the controller in his cold hands and cursing whenever he lost the match because his frozen fingers refused to cooperate.

He let out an annoyed groan as his character went down again.

"Al, I'm up by three thousand points. What's going on with you?" Matthew's voice rang through Alfred's headphones.

"Dude, I'm pretty much a block of ice over here, I can barely hold the goddamn controller!" Alfred whined in reply.

"Is it really that cold up there?" Matthew asked.

"Yes! It's like negative 20 degrees here, and I'll probably have to go help shovel the snow tomorrow morning, too..."

"Negative 20 isn't that bad, though. It's a typical winter night here." The Canadian paused for a moment. "Or are you still using that Fahrenheit system of yours?"

"Of course, I am."

Matthew sighed. "That's why you need to switch to Celsius, Al. No one can understand you otherwise."

"Can we just agree that it's really, really cold here?" Alfred said desperately.

"Fine, I guess. Wanna do another round?"

At the moment the American was busy trying to return feeling to his hands, but his efforts were in vain. "I think I'll pass. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," Matthew replied, before disconnecting. 

Alfred knew he had to do something about this cold before he genuinely froze to death. Looking around for something that could give him some warmth, he remembered about the fireplace in the lounge room. But that would mean having to walk through several rooms without a blanket; however, he knew that he needed to find some warmth. So he braced himself, and threw off the blanket.

His body immediately tensed in the rush of the cold air that now surrounded him. He moved his stiff legs as fast as possible towards his destination, when a freezing cold gust of wind hit him and a snowflake melted on his cheek. He turned towards the source of the wind, and what he saw absolutely shocked him and filled him with a considerable amount of anger towards the person he knew was responsible.

The balcony door was wide open, the light curtains gently fluttering, and a thin layer of snow covering the floor right in front of it.

Alfred slammed the door shut so hard that he heard something crack, but he didn't care. All he cared about at the moment was finding Ivan.

Unless... in the cold... it couldn't be, right? The guy was born in the cold, surely he should be fine.

And, of course, he was fine. Happily relaxing on the couch, knocking back shots of vodka, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, seemingly more than comfortable while Alfred was still shivering next to him.

"Why did you close the window? It's really stuffy in here, we need some fresh air," Ivan complained.

Alfred's eyes widened. "But it's freezing in here!" he shouted.

"Is it?" Ivan said, smiling. Alfred wasn't sure if he was teasing him or not, either way, he couldn't believe he was actually saying that. Out of curiosity, he touched the Russian's arm, and sighed in relief when he felt his fingers finally melt from the warmth under them- wait, _what?!_

Ivan cackled loudly, making Alfred draw his hand back in an instant. "How in the world are you so cold?"

"And how the hell are you _not_ cold?" the American retorted, settling into the cushions next to Ivan.

"Don't know," the Russian shrugged, pulling out a glass from under the table. He poured a bit of vodka in it and handed it to Alfred. "Perhaps this will help. Infuse you with some of our strength against the winter."

 _That makes no sense_ , Alfred thought. He had read somewhere, late at night, when he was bored and surfing the internet, that alcohol actually lowers one's body temperature, but he saw little reason to refuse the drink.

" _За здоровье!_ " Ivan cheered, drinking his glass dry, and Alfred following a moment later. The burn was quite familiar, not unpleasant at all, but then again, it was far from the first time he'd drunk with the Russian. However, those nights usually ended up being rather... interesting, to say the least. Not that he remembered them, in fact, most of those times were a fuzzy blur in his memory, but there were plenty of people who could remind him of what he'd done, and those things ranged wildly from trying to call North Korean officials in the dead of night to bungee jumping from the roof on Ivan's house to doing some things he'd rather not mention in polite company.

And most of those times, as vaguely as he could remember them, he knew they started with a drinking contest. As stupid of an idea that was, it always seemed like a fun challenge.

Just like what he was doing right now.

When Ivan polished off a glass, Alfred did too, making a point to always fill his glass more than the other did. At the very least he tried, though his mind was becoming hazier, but he lost count after the sixth or so glass, and once that happened, the chill he'd felt for hours was all but whisked away.

Alfred suddenly jumped up, stumbling over to the balcony that was the source of his suffering earlier, and found it hanging open. He'd definitely broken something earlier, but he had gone far beyond caring. "Oh, say, can you seeeeeee, by the dawn's early liiiiiiiight~" he sang, or perhaps shouted, before being yanked away from the balcony.

"We're in Russia, you can't sing that here, Alfred," Ivan said.

"Don't tell the hero what he can or can't do! Besides, my anthem is a lot better than yours!" Alfred blurted out.

The Russian let out a quiet chuckle. _So it's a competition now?_

Then again, pretty much anything could become a competition between the two former enemies.

Ivan fired up the speakers and music player, hoping that the next song in his playlist was his anthem, as unlikely as that was. And while it didn't turn out to be the song he hoped for, it was another song he loved dearly - Kalinka, which was one of his favorite Russian folk songs.

"DUDE! Can you teach me that dance?" Alfred exclaimed, an excited glint in his eyes.

The memories of dancing to the song in the military came rushing back to him. Not that he minded it, though, those were fun times.

"Okay, but it's pretty hard," Ivan warned.

"The hero will show you how it's done!" the American shouted.

Facing the other, Ivan began dancing to the music, and Alfred tried hard to keep pace with him.

_Калинка, калинка, калинка моя,_

_В саду ягода малинка, малинка моя!_

The Russian sang along to the song, skipping, jumping and kicking high while twirling the American around in circles. Alfred thought the steps were quite easy, if only a bit tiring, though, in his drunken state, he didn't notice he was completely off beat, his moves were erratic and nonsensical, and his dancing skills, if one could even call it dancing, were questionable at best, but he didn't care, as long as he was having fun, and he was.

As the last notes of the song rang through the house, Ivan ended the dance with a flourish, while Alfred lost his balance and fell backwards to the floor, but he picked himself up almost immediately, his roaring laughter filling the room.

"That was AWESOME, dude! Now, first one out the balcony wins!"

Ivan had barely registered Alfred's words when he almost flew by the Russian and hopped over the balcony rail. And, of course, the American just had to begin to sing _that_ song as he fell down...

"I BELIEVE I CAN FL-"

...before his shout was cut off with a soft thud into the snow. By the time he landed, Ivan had run to the rail to see if his companion was fine, and he let out a quiet sigh of relief when he saw him rolling around in the snow. As soon as Alfred had rolled a bit farther away, Ivan followed him into the snow, landing slightly more gracefully than the other had.

Alfred was stumbling through the yard, the thick layer of snow hindering his speed, but he was nonetheless creating a snowstorm by throwing the powdery snow everywhere, however, he stopped after only a minute or two. "Hey, Ivan, why don't we build a snowman?"

The Russian opened his mouth in objection, unwilling to mess up the pristine layer of snow covering his yard, but before he could utter a single word, Alfred was already rolling the snow up. However, instead of joining him, Ivan ran to get a camera. He was sure the others were going to get a kick out of watching the American running around his yard and singing, more so shouting, Christmas songs.

It took Alfred less than a half hour to create, as Ivan had to grudgingly admit, a rather pretty looking snowman. He stepped back to admire his work, not noticing the other quickly trying to hide the camera he was using. "So, what do you think?" Alfred asked.

"It looks quite nice," Ivan answered absentmindedly, as he was paying more attention to how red the American's face and hands were from the cold. He reached out to take one of Alfred's icy hands in his warmer ones, shocked by just how cold it was. "We should probably go back inside, you're really cold."

"I'm not! And it's really fun out here, so I'm staying." Alfred snapped back, making Ivan genuinely concerned for his health. Without wasting much time, he swept Alfred off his feet and over his shoulder, barely caring how much the other was thrashing.

"Put me down, you don't carry the hero around like that!" he shouted.

Ivan didn't respond, instead making his way back to his house in a steady pace, and upstairs to the American's bedroom, where he threw him down on the bed, barely remembering to take off snow-caked shoes.

Alfred was still fighting back, though his resistance was quite weak, so Ivan was able to subdue him rather easily, just enough to cover Alfred's body with a thick, fluffy blanket.

"I think I've told you before that you can't defeat me in a drinking contest," Ivan said, earning an annoyed huff from the other. "Now go to sleep."

Alfred began protesting in a whiny tone. "But I don't want to~"

Ivan faced the American, smiling creepily, a scary aura surrounding him. "Go to sleep, Alfred."

Alfred plopped down on the pillow, but rose up a moment later, making his best attempt at puppy eyes. "Only if you stay with me."

 _He has no idea what he's saying_ , Ivan thought, his smile dropping. He knew Alfred wouldn't remember anything the next morning, and on top of that, he'd probably be sick, too, but he saw little reason to deny him such a small request.

The Russian crawled under the blanket next to Alfred, immediately feeling the American embrace him, his body still cold and damp from the snow, and letting him rest his head on Ivan's arm as he nuzzled in, smiling contently. "Thanks."

In response, the Russian placed his other arm around him, and buried his face in the American's blonde locks.

"Love you too." Alfred whispered.

And before long, his soft, slow breathing was the only sound Ivan could hear.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! :D  
> Also, plans for the future:
> 
> I have a few more ambitious ideas I'd love to write, but that means this series will be paused for a bit. Not exactly sure how long, but it's not going to be forever. I'll return to this, I promise, and I'll still keep writing and posting stories, so don't you worry about that. :3
> 
> -Minchuks

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, my awesome readers! I wish you a great day/night/next century! :3


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